ETHAN’S ULTIMATE RISE TO POWER

The Lancaster Council

The helicopter’s blades slowed down, beating the air in a steady, heavy rhythm as it dropped through the night sky. Below them, the darkness gave way to something breathtaking; an enormous estate glowing like a golden jewel in the shadows. Ethan leaned closer to the window, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat.

The mansion was like nothing he had ever seen before. It looked like a fortress built for kings. Its walls were made of gold that shimmered under the bright lights. At the very top of the building, a massive golden eagle stretched its wings wide. The giant crest gleamed with a strange, magical glow, as if it were alive. Surrounding the entire property was a tall wall, with armed guards in flawless white uniforms marching along its edge. Each of them wore a gold eagle pin on their chest, flashing under the lights. Overhead, sleek drones buzzed quietly, their red lights blinking like stars, moving smoothly through the sky.

Still holding Ethan’s hand, Helena stared out the window, her voice barely a whisper. “This… this belongs to your family?”

Ethan couldn’t answer. The word family felt strange on her lips, like it didn’t belong to him. He looked down at the golden eagle pendant around his neck, it's weight reminding him that this wasn’t a dream. As the helicopter touched down on the estate’s landing pad, the world felt heavier.

Eleanor stood up, graceful and poised, her black-and-gold gown as neat as if she’d just stepped out of a gala. “Welcome to the Golden Sanctuary,” she said, her voice calm but firm, laced with pride. “One of our family’s oldest strongholds. You’ll be safe here... for now.”

“For now?” Ethan repeated, his voice tense. “You keep saying that. When does it become safe for good?”

Eleanor looked him straight in the eye. “When our enemies are gone,” she said. “And that will take time.”

With a hiss, the helicopter doors slid open. A gust of cold night air swept inside, bringing with it the scent of pine trees, metal, and polished stone. The guards stepped forward first, forming a tight circle around the landing pad. Their movements were sharp and perfectly timed. Each one carried a sleek black rifle, and they didn’t speak. They simply watched, alert and ready.

Beyond them, a line of expensive black cars waited; limousines and bulletproof SUVs, each one with the golden eagle emblem on the hood. The headlights glowed like eyes in the dark, and the cobblestone driveway they were parked on looked clean enough to eat off.

Helena’s grip on Ethan’s hand tightened as they stepped out. Her wedding dress was torn, stained with dust and sweat, completely out of place in this world of power and wealth. Ethan felt just as out of place; his ribs aching, his clothes dirty and ripped. Around him, everything was clean and polished. But he kept walking, each step pushing through the pain and confusion. He needed answers.

Eleanor walked ahead, her heels clicking softly on the stone pathway that curved through the perfectly trimmed gardens. The path led straight to the mansion’s main doors. High above, the drones buzzed quietly, tracking every movement like eyes in the sky. Ethan could feel them watching, and it made his skin crawl. This was a sanctuary, yes... but it was also a fortress.

“Who are these people?” Helena asked softly, her eyes flicking to the guards standing like statues on either side of the path. “They look like a private army.”

“They are,” Eleanor said without turning her head. “The Lancaster family has survived for centuries because we are never unprepared. Every guard, every drone, every security line exists to protect this legacy. And now… to protect you.”

Ethan’s jaw tensed. “Protect me from what? You keep talking about enemies, but who are they? Why do they want me dead?”

Eleanor stopped in front of the main doors—huge double doors covered in gold designs, with the eagle crest carved deep into the center. She turned slowly to face him. Her expression was unreadable. “Young master, our list of enemies is long. Some are rival families, powerful corporations who fear our reach. Others are more personal. Betrayals from inside. Until we discover who hid you all those years ago, we won’t know exactly who’s trying to kill you.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed, frustration rising in his chest. “So let me get this straight. I’m a target… and no one knows why?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Eleanor’s lips, almost amused. “You’re a Lancaster, Ethan. Being a target is part of the bloodline.”

The doors swung open with a low hum, revealing a grand entrance hall that made Ethan stop in his tracks.

The floor was smooth, polished marble, gleaming like water and streaked with bright gold veins. A massive chandelier hung above them, sparkling with hundreds of crystal lights like a floating galaxy. Statues of golden eagles lined the walls, their gemstone eyes watching from every corner. The entire place smelled of lavender, leather, and something Ethan could only describe as rich; a scent that didn’t exist in the world he came from.

It was overwhelming.

It was beautiful.

And it was terrifying.

Because for the first time in his life, Ethan wasn’t just a nobody from nowhere.

He was someone.

Someone important. Someone hunted. Someone who had just stepped into a life he never asked for… and could never walk away from.

A woman in a tailored white suit approached, her golden eagle pin gleaming on her lapel. She was younger than Eleanor, with sharp features and a tablet in hand. “Ms. Lancaster,” she said, bowing slightly. “The perimeter is secure. No signs of pursuit. The pulse worked.”

“Good,” Eleanor said, her tone clipped. “Prepare the council chamber. We’ll need to brief the Young Master immediately.”

The woman nodded, her eyes flicking to Ethan and Helena with curiosity before she hurried off. Ethan caught the look—she wasn’t just assessing him; she was sizing him up, as if trying to reconcile the battered man before her with the title of “Young Master.”

Helena leaned closer to Ethan, her voice low. “This place… it’s like a palace. But it feels like a cage.”

Ethan nodded, his eyes scanning the foyer. The opulence was overwhelming, but the armed guards at every corner, the drones hovering just out of sight, and the weight of Eleanor’s words made it clear: this was no ordinary mansion. It was a fortress built for war.

Eleanor gestured for them to follow her down a wide hallway lined with portraits of stern-faced men and women, all bearing the same sharp features and piercing eyes. Each portrait was framed in gold, and many wore the eagle pendant Ethan now carried. “Your ancestors,” Eleanor said, noticing his gaze. “The Lancaster bloodline stretches back centuries. You’re not just an heir, Ethan. You’re the culmination of their legacy.”

Ethan stopped in front of a portrait of a man who looked eerily like him; same jawline, same intense eyes. The nameplate read Edward Lancaster, 1975. “Is this…?” he started, unable to finish.

“Your father,” Eleanor said softly. “He was the last patriarch before the betrayal.”

Ethan’s chest tightened. He’d never known his parents, never had a family to call his own. The idea that this man; staring back at him from a canvas, was his father felt like a dream he wasn’t ready to believe.

Helena touched his arm, her voice gentle. “Ethan, are you okay?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. “I don’t know what I am anymore,” he admitted.

Eleanor’s expression softened, but only for a moment. “You’ll learn,” she said. “But first, we need to prepare you. The council is waiting.”

“Council?” Ethan asked, his brow furrowing. “What council?”

“The Lancaster Council,” Eleanor replied. “The inner circle of our family. They’ve been running things in your absence, but your return changes everything. They’ll want to see you. And they’ll have questions.”

Helena’s eyes narrowed. “Questions? Or demands?”

Eleanor’s smile was thin. “Both.”

They reached a set of heavy oak doors, carved with intricate eagle motifs. Two guards stood at attention, their rifles held at the ready. Eleanor nodded, and they pushed the doors open, revealing a circular chamber dominated by a long table of polished ebony. Around it sat seven figures; men and women of varying ages, all dressed in tailored suits or gowns, each with the golden eagle pin. Their eyes locked onto Ethan as he entered, a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and something darker.

Eleanor took her place at the head of the table, gesturing for Ethan and Helena to sit. Ethan hesitated, his instincts screaming that this room, like the mansion itself, was a battlefield of a different kind. But he sat, pulling Helena’s chair close to his, her presence the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Council,” Eleanor began, her voice commanding the room’s attention. “I present Ethan Lancaster, the lost heir. The Young Master has returned.”

Murmurs rippled through the group. A man with silver hair and a hawkish nose leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Returned, you say. But is he truly one of us? He looks more like a street rat than a Lancaster.”

Ethan’s fists clenched under the table, but he kept his face neutral. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I’m here. So tell me what you want from me.”

A woman with sharp cheekbones and a cold smile spoke next. “What we want, young man, is proof. The Lancaster name carries weight. Power. Responsibility. You may wear the pendant, but can you wield it?”

Helena’s hand found Ethan’s under the table, her touch steadying him. “He’s already risked his life,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “He stopped my wedding, faced armed men, survived an attack. What more proof do you need?”

The room fell silent, the council members exchanging glances. Eleanor’s lips twitched, a hint of approval in her eyes. “Ms. Rodriguez speaks true,” she said. “Ethan’s actions tonight prove his courage. But courage alone isn’t enough. Our enemies are closing in, and they know he’s alive. We need to move quickly.”

“Move how?” Ethan asked, his frustration mounting. “You keep talking about enemies and wars, but I don’t even know what I’m fighting for.”

The silver-haired man snorted. “You’re fighting for survival, boy. And for the Lancaster legacy. If you can’t handle that, we’ll find someone who can.”

Eleanor’s hand slammed on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “Enough, Marcus,” she snapped. “Ethan is the heir. The bloodline is undeniable. We will not question his place.”

Marcus leaned back, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, but he said nothing more.

Eleanor turned to Ethan. “Tomorrow, we begin your training. You’ll learn what it means to be a Lancaster—our history, our enemies, our resources. But tonight, you rest. Both of you.”

She gestured to a guard, who stepped forward. “Take them to their quarters.”

As Ethan and Helena stood, the council’s eyes followed them, a mix of curiosity and calculation. Ethan felt the weight of their scrutiny, the pendant around his neck heavier than ever. He didn’t know if he could trust Eleanor, or the council, or even himself. But as he looked at Helena; her torn dress, her fierce eyes, he knew one thing: he’d fight for her, no matter what this new world demanded.